Funny how great (in my opinion) minds think alike.

Alice Bachini has a little posting about the allegedly excessive use of the personal pronoun. Tim Blair complains that some other person says "I" far too much in something she's written, and Alice hopes Tim doesn't ever read her blog, because she says "I" a lot too.

On the face of it not a very important little notion, is it? Personally, speaking for myself, I like saying "I" quite a lot, for reasons which I explained in comment number one (and so far only) on Alice's posting. Here's what I've just put there:

Alice:

This is me. Brian. I think that using the words "I" and "me" a lot can actually be a lot less evidence of egotism and self-obsession than is often assumed. Constantly saying "I think", or "in my opinion", is evidence that I understand the difference between what I think and what others might think, and above all between what I think and what is "objectively" true. Is it really any less self-absorbed for me to be simply announcing how things are, with no qualifier that this is only my own opinion?

In persuasive writing, it is often polite to distinguish between things that "I think" and things that you should also think. "Here's my opinion, obviously I want you to agree, but I realise that these are two distinct processes" is a good way to spread ideas, because you can then spread them without other people having to agree with them.

Denouncing constant use of "I" only makes sense if you think that writing should only state facts, never express opinions, or for that matter recount personal experiences.

That's what I think, anyway.

I got to that attitude from a background not in art criticism or cultural commentary but in political propaganda, in trying to spread political ideas (see this tactical essay - which is only a pdf file, I'm afraid, not yet html). But I believe that very similar considerations apply to discussions about art, and if anything even more so.

And on the very same day as Alice's little posting, what does Michael Blowhard have to say for himself? I encountered this essay, modestly entitle Artchat Survival Tips immediately after doing the comment above. Quote:

But are we obligated to love what has been deemed great? Absolutely not, no more than anyone or anybody has obligated you to, say, love Paris or Rome. Still, why not visit? Why not have that experience? But many people make the mistake of leaping from “I love it” to “It’s great” in the blink of an eye. This is understandable -- they’re both ways not just of saying something specific, but also of expressing a general enthusiasm. Nonetheless, doing so will tend to land you in hot and unpleasant waters. Say “It was great!” when what you really mean is “I loved it,” and someone might well respond, “Are you kidding? It’s not great!” Then you feel a little hurt and offended, and defensively/angrily say “Oh, yeah?” And pretty soon the two of you are saying “Sez who?” at each other -- when all you really wanted from the outset was a sympathetic and interested minute or two.

My trick for getting past this kind of pointless unpleasantness is to personalize my opinions and reactions: to say “I enjoyed it” or “I didn’t enjoy it” rather than “It was great” or “It stunk.” Doing so makes it much less likely that dumb arguments will erupt -- after all, all you’re doing is informing people about your reaction. Who can argue with that? There is no higher authority than you on the topic of your own reactions. If you encounter someone who disputes your account of your own reaction -- as in, “No you did not love it” -- leave quickly. There are a handful of bossy and intrusive people who will dispute your account of your reactions. (Most of them live not far from me here in New York City, as far as I can tell.) I do my best to avoid having conversations with them -- some people are simply impossible.

I urge you to read the entire piece. I'm thinking of asking Michael if I can reprint it as a Libertarian Alliance Cultural Note. In my opinion, his essay is a classic, and deserves to become part of the canon. My canon, anyway.